


Those Gosts That Haunt Us

by Zevran_Fenris_Solas



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-05-07 17:40:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14676135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zevran_Fenris_Solas/pseuds/Zevran_Fenris_Solas
Summary: Hawke is found laying in a puddle outside the Hanged Man in the middle of a thunderstorm after going missing hours before. She is alive and conscious , but unresponsive. Fenris recognizes the signs but refuses to acknowledge that something this horrible could happen to his beloved. He vows to himself that once his love his cared for, there will be vengeance.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Trying my hand at this type of tragedy for the first time. Please be respectful in the comments.

Another crack of thunder rattled the windows of the old Amell estate as rain continued to pelt the roof. The world felt as if it would split in two with the next flash of lightning as bare elven feet paced impatiently across the stone floor.

            “Fenris, we’ve done all we can. I’ve had my men break the city down by blocks and search every inch of the place.”

            The silver-haired elf jolted to a halt and wheeled on the guard captain, lyrium blazing brightly, “It’s not good enough!” he shouted, “We should be out there searching! _I_ should be out there searching!”

            Aveline pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed, “I told you, if we go franticly searching the streets without Hawke, the citizens are going to notice, and they are going to panic. They are going to think the Qunari came back for revenge and it will cause chaos this city doesn’t need.”

            “Venhedis, woman! I don’t give a damn what this Maker forsaken city needs! What about what Hawke needs? What if she has been taken captive, or assassinated! You know how many enemies she’s made over the last three years.”

            The front door burst open just as another crack of thunder ricocheted off the walls. A soaking wet platoon of Kirkwall guardsmen rushed into the foyer.

            “Captain! We found her!”

            Fenris wheeled on the platoon, “Where is she.”

            Donnic pushed through the crowd with a sopping wet champion in his arms. Her big green eyes stared blankly up at the celing as her arms dangled limply at her side.

            “Maker…no…” Aveline all but whispered.

            “No need to panic, she’s alive.” Donnic Clarified.

            Aveline, Fenris, and the rest of the gang gathered in the room all breathed a collective sigh of relief.

            “If she’s alive, what is the matter with her? Is she enchanted or something?” Isabela asked confused.

            “That’s what we’d like to know ourselves.” Donnic sighed, “We found her like this just laying in the middle of the street outside the Hanged Man. Almost passed her up as a drunk, except the lightning caught the amulet around her neck. I recognized it as the one Fenris had me help pick out for her only a few weeks ago. When we approached her, she didn’t even look at us. I almost thought she was dead myself until I felt her breath against the back of my hand when I went to check. I don’t know what is the matter, but she hasn’t said a word since we picked her up. She hasn’t moved either…in fact she’s hardly even blinked…”

            “I can’t sense any magic coming off of her…” Merrill pipped up, “Even if it was a binding curse inflicted by blood magic I’d be able to feel its power on her, and I sense….nothing.”

            Fenris scowled, “You would be able to sense blood magic.” He mumbled under his breath, “What about a circle healer?”

            “I believe the question is, what about Anders?” Aveline chided.

            “ _Anders_ ” Fenris growled, trying his best to bite back the word ‘abomination’ in the presence of the platoon of law enforcement in his lover’s foyer…according to Hawke it was bad enough they knew he was a mage “Hasn’t been seen or heard from in three days. We hardly have time to search for him.” Not that having a _not_ possessed healer look over Hawke was more preferable.

            “We took her to the circle before we brought her here…they found nothing. The first enchanter said she might be in shock…though from what we cannot say.”

            Fenris scowled before marching over to take his beloved in his own arms, “Thank you, Donnic.” He sighed, “I shall see to it that she is properly taken care of in… _Anders’_ , absence until we get to the bottom of this.” He turned and headed for the stairs and Hawke’s bedroom, “Orana, could you draw a bath please.”

            “Right away, ser!” The petite elf exclaimed as she jumped to her feet to carry out his request.

            “I’m sure the rest of you have other matters to attend to besides pestering the champion. I assure you she is in better hands here than with the mage.”

            Verric sighed from the corner of the room and hopped to his feet, “I guess this is Broody’s way of telling us to scram.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, “While I know we are all worried about Hawke, there isn’t anything we can do right now anyway. Let’s give them some space. The elf knows where to find us if he needs us.”

            The rest of the group reluctantly filed out of the estate, and with a snap of her fingers Aveline had the platoon marching out as well.

            Fenris carried Hawke the rest of the way upstairs and gently sat her on the edge of the bed. Thankfully she was able to sit herself upright as he gently removed her armor. He was all too familiar with what was happening to his beloved. The hollow look in her eyes, the disconnection from the world around her, the inability to process anything…her body had shut itself off and gone into autopilot because it couldn’t process what had happened to her. Emotional Trauma…he had lived it more times than he cared to think about. There were only a few events in a person’s life that could do this to them…and even fewer that Hawke hadn’t already experienced and reacted relatively normal towards. Bloodshed, the death of a family member, surviving a natural disaster…she had survived them all and been mostly okay afterward, all things considered. No…there was only one thing that could have caused this…and Fenris refused to acknowledge it.

            Acknowledging what most likely had happened meant Fenris was going to lose his temper…which was the last thing Hawke needed of him right now. As he removed her gauntlets, the evidence the circle healers had missed finally reared their ugly head: purple bruises around her wrists, and blood under her fingernails. She had been restrained forcefully, and she had attempted to fight back. Fenris’ hands balled into fists at his side as he bit back his rage. He could explode later, but for now she needed him to take care of her. He sighed heavily and set to unlacing her boots.

            A tiny whimper escaped Hawke’s lips, and Fenris’s gaze snapped up to meet hers. His fingers hesitated over her laces.

            “Do you want me to leave them on?” He all but whispered.

            “I…” Hawke squeaked. She hesitated a moment and took a deep breath, “No Fenris I…I’m so sorry…”

            Fenris rose to his feet and took a seat next to Hawke on the edge of the bed, “I don’t understand.” He murmured, “Sorry for what?”

            Her emerald eyes dropped to the floor, refusing to meet his gaze. “I have been….unfaithful…”

His stomach dropped. It was as he had feared, but worse…she was blaming herself.

“The blood under your fingernails and the bruises on your wrists say otherwise. You have

not been unfaithful, someone did this to you.”

            “No Fenris…I…I could have stopped it…if I had just fought harder, if I had been able to force myself to scream…”

            Lyrium blazed through the elf’s skin as he resisted the urge to demand the name of her attacker. He bit his tounge, for he had been through this before on the other side of things. Before Kirkwall he was property for Denarius and his fellow senators to do with as they pleased, and he was powerless to fight back. Countless times he had beat himself up about not resisting, not fighting back and just taking the abuse. He told himself for years that those scars on his life were his fault, and it wasn’t until he met Hawke and had confided in Sebastian that he began to see things differently. Now, Hawke was in the same place as he once was; however, there was a difference. While he had no one to stand up for him, to protect him and comfort him in the aftermath, she had him. He would help her through this, assure her that it was not her fault and teach her how to overcome the shame. She needed him, and he would be there until she was more than okay…but that did not mean he would forget about her defiler…

            “This was not your choice, and you reacted as you did because you did not know how to react. You have not been unfaithful my love, and I refuse to allow you to believe so.”

            A single tear slipped down her muddy cheek.

            “Who did this to you…who was your attacker?” It was a gentle question rather than a demand, something Fenris was proud of himself for accomplishing at a time like this. He turned her head gently to face him, and wiped her tears away with his thumbs. She pursed her lips together, clearly not ready to reveal that detail.

            “If you cannot tell me who, then please explain how you ended up outside the Hanged Man in a puddle.”

            “I-I don’t really remember to be honest…after everything...transpired, I sort of went on autopilot. I must have dressed myself, and left and began heading home. My feet just sort of carried me…I couldn’t think…I couldn’t focus on anything, I just kind of walked. Then, my feet could no longer carry me and I just sort of collapsed. I don’t know how much time passed before someone found me, but I vaguely remember Donnic waving his hand in front of my face…and then I blacked out again and realized I was in your arms as you carried me up here.”

            “You said you were headed home when you fell in front of the Hanged Man, that your feet sort of carried you without you thinking about it…Isn’t that the path you travel back from dark town?”

            “I think…maybe? It’s all rather fuzzy…the incident. I don’t remember where in darktown I was or why I was there.”

            “Were you looking for Anders?”

            Hawke flinched, confirming to Fenris that he had hit a sore spot.

            “Hawke…were you near the clinic when this happened?”

            She nodded slowly, “I must have been…why else would I have been down there.”

            The elf grit his teeth and scowled at the bedsheets. The next question rolled out before he had the chance to stop it.

            “Did the _abomination_ do this to you?” He regretted it as soon as it came out…as crazy as the mage was he knew he wasn’t stupid enough, _suicidal_ enough, to lay a finger on the champion of Kirkwall. The abomination knew the champion was protected by more than just the city, she was protected by _him_.

            Hawkes eyes were sad and empty, her shoulders slumped, and her hair caked in mud. “No…not Anders…” she whispered.

            “Hawke?” He took her face gently in his hands and stared her directly in the eyes, “Please tell me…who did this to you…”

            Her lip quivered, and her shoulders shook as tears streamed down her face, “…Justice…” she breathed.

            Fenris felt an icy chill pass through him before hot rage began to consume his stomach. He kept his demeanor steady and even as raw hatred pulsed through him…a skill he learned very young in Tevinter.

            “What. Happened.” He couldn’t help but growl.

            Hawke’s eyes darted away, “It all…happened so quickly I…”

            “Hawke. I cannot help until I know.”

            “Th-Three days ago, I went to the clinic to help Anders with an urgent project. He was going on about something to do with the mage underground. We snuck into the tunnels beneath the gallows hoping to break in, but we ran into templars confronting an apostate mage. I didn’t want to interfere as they were just doing their job, but the head of their group threatened to force himself upon the mage after she was made tranquil, so Anders, Varric and I stepped in. We took down the templar in charge, but I insisted on returning the girl to the circle where she would be safe from herself and from others who might assume her a blood mage. Neither Justice nor Anders took too kindly to this decision and they disappeared after returning to Kirkwall. After three days of hearing nothing from either of them, I must have gone looking for Anders.”

            Fenris took her hand in his as he sat beside her on the bed, leaning her head against his shoulder, “Must have? You mean you don’t remember…?”

            “Not everything, no.”

            Fenris sighed heavily, he knew from experience how these things worked. There were huge gaps in his memory he knew for a fact Denarius had not chosen to block out…no, his own mind had.

            “What is the next thing you remember?”

            She squeezed his hand as her body began to shake harder, “I-I’m so sorry, Fenris…”

            “Hawke, please…just tell me.”

            She took a deep breath as the tears began to flow even heavier, “The next thing I remember is Justice throwing me to the ground, I think in some alley in Darktown. I asked him why he was doing this…” she paused for a long moment and sobbed into her lover’s shoulder, “He…he…he told me that I needed to be taught a lesson, see first hand what the mages of the circle are subjected to. He said saving the girl from her would be defilers just to return her to the circle was like saving a lamb from a pack of wolves just to return it to the slaughter. He told me that I deserved to share the fate I subjected her to, and that if the templars weren’t there to do it, he would. He-he had both of my hands restrained, and told me that if I screamed, he’d kill me…Oh Maker, I was terrified…the next thing I remember is him turning to go…”

            She turned impossibly pale and continued to shake. Fenris guided her back against the pillows.

            “Maker Fenris, I still feel his hands everywhere on me…I feel filthy like I’m caked in a taint I can never be rid of. The blight sickness must be better than this…”

            Fenris shivered as he felt the ghost of Denarius’ hands on his own body, and heard the magister’s sick praise ringing in his ears. _There now Fenris, be a good pet and show your master your gratitude…I own you, you are mine to do with as I please!...I demand satisfaction…!_ Hawke whimpered, and he snapped out of his own thoughts…now was not the time to dwell on things past, not was the time to focus on the atrocities of the present.

            He ran his fingers through her hair and kissed her forehead, “Hush love, I promise you we will get this sorted out. No one will _ever_ harm you again, so long as I live. I will stand by you and I _will_ protect you. You are not alone, and you never will be.”

            Just then Orana poked her head around the corner, “Messer Fenris, I have prepared a bath for our Lady as you have requested.”

            “Thank you, Orana.” He replied gently, “Please help her if she needs, she has been through a great deal today.”

            The other former slave nodded knowingly and helped the still shaking Hawke to her feet. Fenris promptly left the room, hoping to avoid causing his beloved more embarrassment or shame, and strode down the stairs two at a time. With Hawke now taken care of, his rage was taking over. Once downstairs he swung his great sword over his shoulder and burst through the front door without even a glance over his shoulder. He was a man on a mission, and the mage would pay.


	2. Chapter 2

            Lightning shattered the sky above him as he stormed his way through Hightown. Rain continued to pour down in sheets, soaking his armor through to his bones, and dulling his bright white hair to a lack-luster silver as it plastered to his cheeks and neck. He charged forward toward the keep, one destination in mind. He smashed through the palace doors and strode his way to the Barracks. Luckily, the guard captain’s office door was already open, or it would have been ripped off the hinges.

            Aveline was hard at work filling out the necessary paperwork to record the search and rescue mission she had lead only a half hour ago. She was not unaccustomed to the sound of mud-caked armored boots squelching across the carpet of her workspace; she did not even bother to look up when Fenris entered.

            “Yes recruit, I am aware that the uniforms are uncomfortable when they are sopping wet, but even noble blood cannot change that. If you truly have an issue you can take that up with the quartermaster, and perhaps he can bring it to the blacksmith. Though, I seriously doubt that any of them will consider it a viable complaint worth looking into…”

            When she received no huffy threats to call in royal relatives from neighboring cities to smite her, she paused and looked up from her paperwork expectantly. What she was met with sent shivers down her spine and caused all the blood to drain from her face. She had seen Fenris angry before, vengeful, spiteful, murderous even…but this….this was something else.

            The look on his face was one of disgust and hatred beyond even what registered when he faced his former master for the final time. His cheeks were flushed, his thick dark eyebrows knotted together, and his nostrils flared. His Lyrium tattoos blazed so bright they appeared to be white hot to the touch, leaving the guard captain to wonder how he had not yet burst into flames. His brilliant emerald eyes hardened and had turned to a dark forest green with pinpoint pupils. There was no word for infuriated that could accurately capture how positively manically pissed off he was.

            Aveline met his gaze, and for the first time in all the long years she had known Fenris…felt intimidated by him.

            “Dear Maker…she’s dead isn’t she…” was all she managed to squeak out.

            “No. But she wishes she was.” He spat.

Aveline let go of her breath, not realizing she was holding it, “…But you know what happened? Is she hurt?”

            “Yes and Yes.”

            “Well…spit it out elf!”

            His expression changed for just an instant as he contemplated how much it was safe to tell Aveline without embarrassing or shaming his love. Aveline was one of Hawkes closest friends which could utterly gut her if the warrior thought ill of her based-on today’s events…but she was also the guard captain, and the only one with legal power to help. Ordinarily, Fenris would go after Anders himself, but he did not want to risk being hung for murder when his beloved needed him the most…

            “The abomination…” he growled, “he…he…” his nails clawed the insides of his gauntlets, drawing blood, “he stole her virtue…forcefully.”

            Aveline’s eyebrows shot up in shock and horror, “Fenris….” She warned, “That is a terribly serious accusation…are you sure…”

            Fenris suddenly punched the wall next to him, breaking a few knuckles despite the protection of his gauntlets, “Fasta Vas!” He raged, “Do you think I would be here speaking with the guard captain if I wasn’t sure of what had happened!? No! I’d be hunting down his worthless being and beating a confession out of him! I heard it directly from Hawke’s own mouth!”

            Aveline jumped to her feet, “Fenris, calm down…”

            He wheeled on her, “I WILL NOT CALM DOWN! YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW SHE LOOKED AFTER YOU AND DONNIC LEFT…HOW POSITIVELY BROKEN, DEFEATED, ASHAMED AND HORRIFIED….THE KIND OF MARK THIS KIND OF THING LEAVES ON A PERSON IS IRREPERABLE…EVERY TIME SHE CLOSES HER EYES SHE WILL SEE HIM! EVERY TIME SHE LOOKS AT HERSELF IN THE MIRROR SHE WILL SEE HIM! WHEN SHE WALKS DOWN THE STREET, SHE WILL BE LOOKING OUT FOR HIM, WHILE SHE ASSUMES EVERYONE ELSE SEES NOTHING BUT HIM IN HER PLACE…” tears were streaming down his face shamelessly now, “She will feel his hands on her no matter where she is or what she’s doing for the rest of her life. She will hear his voice in her dreams. Every insecurity, every fear, every doubt will have his echo behind it. To progress in a relationship….to turn… _that_ …into something that symbolizes love and trust….I wouldn’t be surprised if she is never capable of doing so ever again. Aveline…this monster has to be stopped. The man is possessed and insane and has used his demonic partner to take advantage of the city’s champion out of revenge for not following through with his political ideals. If he is capable of doing this to a woman he claimed to be his friend, what is stopping him from hurting anyone else. I know what Hawke is going through more than I ever care to admit, my former master made sure of that. However, I am pleading your assistance not as the vengeful partner of a city elite, but as a citizen of Kirkwall, the FreeMarches, and Thedas.”

            The captain dropped her gaze to the floor, unable to process this amount of open emotion from her usually cold and removed friend. It was relatively normal for him to go off about something Anders had done (of course nothing to this scale had ever happened before) but it was another thing for him to confide in her some of the horrors he had experienced during his life as a twisted blood mage’s property…whether the information was indirect or not. As his friend and as Hawke's, she couldn’t meet his eyes. As the guard captain of Kirkwall she felt immense guilt.

            “I warned you…” Fenris growled nearly inaudible, echoing her thoughts, “Firstly, you knew the mage was an apostate. You also knew he was possessed, slowly losing himself to the demon. You knew there was a potential for him to be dangerous, to turn on the city if not one of his own first. You knew he was starting a rebellion that posed a threat to the balance of power and the safety of the citizens and you did nothing. We are all guilty Aveline, for not disregarding Hawke’s blind trust in the abomination and reporting him straight to the Knight commander...but you were duty bound and the only one Hawke could perhaps forgive, and you did nothing. Now, there is an lunatic apostate on the loose who has destroyed our closest friend’s life…I think you and I know there is only one thing that can be done.”

            Aveline flinched, “Come with me to the gallows. This is a situation beyond my sphere of control. Meredith needs to know.”


	3. Chapter 3

By the time they had reached the gallows, Fenris had calmed down to a more manageable level of pissed. His lyrium tattoos had dimmed some, but still appeared to be dangerously hot to the touch; the bright red wounds of singed flesh that now outlined them were solid enough proof for Aveline to make a mental note not to try and hold the elf back at any point for fear of her own safety. If Fenris was in pain however, whether from the fresh burns or from his newly broken knuckles, he did not show it. He had one goal in mind: tearing the still beating heart from the filthy mage’s chest. The mere thought of it gave him a sick shiver of pleasure. Now, there was just the Knight Commander between him and…well…justice (in both senses of the word).

            Knight commander Meredith was clinically insane. Since the death of the viscount, to say she had gone off the deep end was an understatement; however, between allowing Anders to go unpunished and potentially harm more citizens of Kirkwall, or giving justifiable cause for a mad woman to continue to crack down on innocent mages…Meredith was the lesser of two evils. If all else failed, at least she had the Divine to answer to. Anders was an apostate and an abomination with no one to answer to but The Maker…who he regularly shit on for the hand he was dealt in life. In short, the madman had no one to answer to and no one to stop him except Meredith.

            The knight commander was livid when Aveline reported the incident to her. Fenris was forced to stay outside the Templar headquarters for fear his strong opinions on the matter and penchant for losing his temper might be counterproductive. She met him in the gallows courtyard with a platoon of city guards lead by Donnic, and what appeared to be three quarters of the Templar forces in Kirkwall. Fenris smirked twistedly to himself knowing that this was exactly the abomination’s worst fear realized. Furthermore, Fenris had a reputation as a ruthless mercenary in Kirkwall, one Meredith was willing to work with…and one powerful enough to grant Fenris the right to bring the mage to justice providing he found him first. Aveline divulged the location of Ander’s secret clinic and a small platoon of guards and Templars were sent in its direction. The rest of the army was dispersed throughout the city to search every crevice for neither Aveline nor Fenris were convinced that the mage would return home as if nothing had happened.

            Meanwhile, Donnic and Aveline rounded up the rest of Hawke’s companions to see if they knew anything about Ander’s whereabouts. Naturally, none of them had seen the mage in a few days and had a million questions as to why both Meredith and Aveline were looking for him. All Fenris told them was that he had been the one to harm Hawke; They were all in disbelief. Only Sebastian, Fenris’s closest confident, understood the haunting look on the elf’s face. He knew the echo of Denarius’s touch that forever permeated the warrior’s skin, and knew through the ghosts evident in his eyes what exactly Anders had done to Hawke. The priest was sick to his stomach, and could do nothing but silently slip away from the group and pray. Varric took in the elf’s expression and became decidedly pissed himself; he made the decision to return to the Hawke estate and act as Hawke’s first line of defense should the mage be stupid enough to try using the passage into her cellar as a means of escape. Aveline had already posted a guard outside her door, but Varric didn’t give a shit.

            Fenris slipped into a dark alley on the outskirts of the Hightown market to be alone and think. He paced back and forth trying desperately to place himself in the mind of his enemy. Predicting Denarius’s every move before he made it was what saved his life on countless occasions…now, he hoped Anders was just as predictable. He ran through a mental checklist of all the places the madman would be most likely to run to. The clinic he knew was out of bounds. Not even Anders was stupid enough to return home knowing the crime he had committed and that Hawke would likely tell her lover and his arch rival. The passage below Hawke’s mansion that she had once offered him as an escape route should the Templars come poking about was also a place he would not be…again, he was a vial creature but not an idiot. The Hanged Man did not have enough escape routes, the slaver passages in the Darktown sewers were too risky because they had been occupied only recently by illegal dealers of the flesh, and the mage underground he knew Anders knew would be the first place crawling with Templars. No…Anders would run somewhere where he figured the guards and Templars figured he was too stupid to go…like an entrance to the deeproads…but even that was too obvious. He was a part of Hawke’s expedition and he knew Varric knew.

If Anders was going to run anywhere, it was going to be someplace where he figured he could hide for a while before he could return for his precious research he had roped Hawke into a few weeks back. It was going to be somewhere the Templars and guards would overlook, and it was going to be a place he never thought Fenris would go…or rather return.

He stopped short in his pacing and let out a dark chuckle. Of course, he was there as part of the group who helped him track down Hadriana. He knew the history of the caves she hid in, and he knew how easy it was for her to secure them. He also knew the emotionally traumatic memories they held for Fenris…a place he never in a million years wished to see again. It was risky, because the main holding chamber of the slaver tunnels while well secured, had no immediate escape route. The tunnels were a secure dead end…and if confronted there one on one, it was either Fenris or Anders who was making it out alive and not both. The tunnels were too narrow to charge a platoon of soldiers through as well…so it forced his hand. It _had_ to be one on one.

“Vishante Kaffas!” Fenris growled to himself, “Damn you, mage.” He sighed heavily and tightened the straps on his gauntlets. “If you want duel to the death abomination, so be it. But I will win. Not for my own Honor, but for Hawkes.” He Unsheathed his great sword, and took off sprinting into the night, headed straight for the Wounded coast.

 

* * *

 

The rain had slowed to a drizzle when Fenris appeared outside the cave entrance. It wasn’t as easy to find as last time; Nature, the sore winner of time, had half obscured the gaping entrance with mangled vines and twisted branches. The elf had to back-track what felt like a half dozen times to ensure this was, indeed, the entrance they had used before when tracking down Hadriana. Entering the wrong cave out here was dangerous, especially for a runaway like him. Hawke was not here to back him up should he encounter some unwelcome old faces among the illegal slaver caravans along the coast. He had to hand it to the damnable mage….he was clever.

            Fenris shook his sopping hair out of his eyes like a damp wolf preparing to stalk its prey. He did his best to stifle his emotions, and dim his lyrium brands in the hopes of gaining a slight advantage in stealth. He knew Anders was betting on one of two things: Either that Fenris would come and he’d have to face him, or that Fenris wasn’t stupid enough to return to this place. The elf steeled himself and slipped into the cavern, praying silently to the Maker that there was at least some justice to be had in this cruel world and the mage would be relaxed in his hiding spot, banking all his hopes on his hunter’s potential cowardice.

            The trek to the holding cells of the cave was surprisingly easy-going. The mage had set no traps along the way (probably due to his focus on healing magic rather than defensive magic), and despite the handful of giant spiders who took special interest in claiming Fenris as their dinner, there was little to contend with along the way. It made the warrior uneasy for things to be going so smoothly. He began to second guess his gut, to wonder if Anders truly was stupid enough to return to the clinic and he had allowed himself to venture the path of a fruitless wild goose chase after all. There was absolutely no signs Anders had come to the abandoned tunnels at  all…until Fenris rounded the last corner and came face to face with a hulking Pride demon.

            The battle was longer than any other he had endured that day, and he was exhausted and slightly more aware of his injuries by the end of it. Mostly however, he was furious. Not only had the mage come here to hide like the scared little rat he was, but he had also in his desperation resorted to Blood Magic as a last effort at self-defense. He should have expected this from Anders, but the fact that the mage was able to fool Hawke into thinking he would never stoop this low infuriated him. He climbed over the corpse of the slain demon, careful to not slip on any of its sickly black entrails, decapitated it, mule kicked the final door open, and dragged the creature’s head into the darkness behind him.

            There, standing alone in a circle of dwindling candles, shivered an extremely emaciated and sallow Anders. His vacant eyes met Fenris’s as the elf stomped forward, stopping at the very edge of the circle of light. With hate in his eyes, he dropped the disembodied head of the foul creature at the feet of the possessed mage. The mage flinched, and meekly returned Fenris’s greeting with an icy glare of his own.

           

            “I see you are a fool after all.” The mage mumbled wearily.

            The elf’s scowl deepened, rage boiling in his chest and disgust bubbling over in his eyes, “How. Dare. You.” He spat. He took a half step closer to Anders, one foot crossing over into the circle of light surrounding the mage.

            Anders hung his head, and dropped his eyes to the damp rocky floor, “ I never meant to hurt her.” He all but whispered.

            Fenris took another half step closer, limbs shaking and brands burning white hot once more. He reached out and grabbed the meek man by the collar of his grubby robe. “I don’t believe you.” He growled in his captive’s face.

            Anders’ face hardened and he snapped his eyes back up to meet the elf’s. “You think I, Anders, her _friend_ intended to do what was done with my body!? I had no control over what happened! Justice…Justice decided she needed to understand our plight. While I agreed that she did not fully understand the consequences of her actions, I never approved of…I tried to fight against…”His voice cracked and a single tear escaped down his filthy cheek, “Oh Maker…what have I done…”

            Fenris lifted Anders a few feet off the ground, and with his lyrum enhanced strength threw him against the cave wall like a ragdoll. The mage landed with a sickening crack as a few of his ribs fractured against the stone. The candles in the ring of light were blown out by the force of the elf’s actions. The only light that remained was the eerie bluish glow emitting from the warrior’s brands.

            “Do not bare your heart to me mage, you shall find no pity here.”

            “I deserve no pity…” Came a meek whimper, “They all warned her…warned her that this bond between myself and Justice could one day go sour and I, in denial, told her everything was alright. She trusted me…and I…failed her.”

            “You did a lot more than fail her.” Fenris spat, “You destroyed her. She who called you friend, and she who stuck her neck out to protect you on more than one occasion. She risked her life and her reputation to slip into the mage underground after you, and _this_ is how you repay her! You _Raped_ her Anders, as retaliation for not siding with your political agenda. You are beyond mad, and I speak for more than just myself or Hawke when I say that you need to be stopped.”

            “What a noble hero you’ve become.” Anders growled sitting up against the wall he was just thrown against, “You’ve thought I was a danger since day one, yet I wasn’t the one who had half of Tevinter looking for him. Do you realize you could have started a war with the Free Marches by just existing!? Not to mention your relationship with one of the City of Kirkwall’s most respected…”

            Anders slumped over and began spitting blood as Fenris removed his spiked boot from his mouth.

            “For once in your damnable life mage, take responsibility for your own actions! You choose to bond with that wandering spirit, you chose to not turn yourself into the circle, you chose to ignore your loss of control, and therefore _you_ are responsible for what happened to _My Hawke!_ ” Fenris kicked Anders again, this time connecting directly with the side of his head, smashing his jaw where it connected at the joint, in front of the ear. The mage let out a shriek in pain and rolled onto his side, too distracted to summon any healing magic, “Demons harm people, and they take control of the weak mind of a mage. It is their nature. It is why magic is feared, why mages are rightfully locked away, and why blood magic is forbidden. In your quest for equality, never did you consider that perhaps the chantry had a point as well. Justice is not to blame for what happened, _you_ are because _you knew better!”_  

            The elf grabbed the mage by the collar of his robes once more and forced him to meet his eyes. Blood and tears were flowing in great rivers down Anders’ face now. It made Fenris sick to think of his broken beloved back home, and the monster who destroyed her sobbing like a victim before him. He spit in the mage’s face.

            “You disgust me. You are the epitome of a hypocrite. You fight for the rights of mages, but you are the image of why they can’t be. I don’t know what she ever saw in you. You and Denarius are one and the same. Anything to advance your own ideals.”

            Anders tried to protest, but his battered jaw couldn’t move.

            Fenris smirked twistedly and shook his head, “I think you know what comes next.” He growled.

            Ander’s eyes were alight with fear, pleading while knowing it was useless. With a squelch, an icy gauntlet plunged into his chest and gripped tightly around his heart. He gasped raggedly, and the elf tore it from his chest. His face froze in eternal horror while the lyrium wolf tossed the still beating organ to the ground with a wet thud and ground it into the stone with the heel of his boot.

* * *

 

 

            It was nearly dawn when Fenris arrived back home at the old Amell estate, tracking flakes of Anders dried blood across the stone entry way. He removed his armor, and placed it on a nearby stand with a note for Bohdan, written in clumsy hand, promising to clean it up later so the dwarf did not have to. His great sword he kept with him for the time being, a sense of comfort in the shadows of a horrific evening. Varric met him in the parlor.

            “You find Blondie?”

            “Wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t.” Fenris answered sharply.

            “Yeah.” Varric sighed, “I figured.”

            The elf stalked over to the fireplace and removed a stone from the wall above the mantel. He reached into the revealed space, and pulled out a bottle of expensive vintage wine.

            “Shit.” The dwarf mumbled to himself.

            Fenris uncorked the bottle with his teeth, and drew a long swig from the neck. “My sentiments exactly.”

            “If you don’t mind me asking…” Varric hesitated, “Where did you find him?”

            “In the old slave tunnels where I last encountered my former master’s apprentice. The one place he thought I’d never look.”

            A heavy silence settled over the pair as they simply stared at each other for a moment.

            Varric’s eyes were sad, and Fenris knew the look: regret. Regret that he had lead Hawke to Anders to gain access to the Deeproads, regret that he and the others thought that the mage was more or less harmless, and regret that he wasn’t there for Hawke in her greatest hour of need…and regret that he couldn’t stop the man he once called friend from going down this path.

            “I may have hated the man even before this,” Fenris grumbled, “But I recognize that you and the others once called him friend. I should have left his body for the spiders such as he deserved, but you all did not deserve that. He betrayed your trust which hurts immensely, as I know from experience with my own sister. You did not need to suffer while pondering what may have become of him. I carried his body back to Meredith, who is obligated to hand him over to the Chantry. Whether or not you or the others attend the services is none of my concern.”

            Varric smiled a small, somber smile, and he turned to leave.

            Fenris stalked up the stairs back to his and Hawke’s bedroom, throwing back the bottle of wine once more to drown himself in its contents. Upon entering the room, he noticed that Hawke had managed to fall asleep at some point, and that Orana was sitting up with her at her bedside. He dismissed the tiny elf and began to ready himself for bed. He quietly dragged the weapon stand from the corner of the room and placed it next to his side of the bed; this is where he placed his great sword. He washed his hands and face in the basin of water at Hawke’s vanity that had long since gone cold, taking special care to clean the cuts on his hands and to be gentle around the bruised and broken fingers. He doused his wounds in healing poltice, wrapped them in bandages, took another long swig of wine and slipped into bed next to his beloved. When he placed his arm protectively around her waist, she awoke with a start and shoved him off the bed.

            She stared down at him where he lay flat on his bare back flat against the cold stone floor, eyes wide with surprise. Her eyes were filled with terror for just an instant, before fading to regret and filling with tears. She opened her mouth to speak, but only quiet sobs escaped. Fenris jumped to his feet and took his place beside her in the bed once more. He sat upright, cross-legged, and pulled her shaking frame into his lap. She placed her hands against his broad, warm, bare chest and continued to sob into his neck. He held her there tightly, rocking her back and forth, whispering promises of eternal love and protection into her hair, heart filled with loathing for the ghost that he knew would continue to haunt her for the rest of her days.

**Author's Note:**

> No Anders hate here, just had an idea and decided to run with it


End file.
